Sweet Disposition
by StarzOfDraco
Summary: A Quartie moment for every episode of season 1.  Written for the Quartie Ficathon!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Written for the **Quartie Ficathon** in response to the prompt from VM is My Religion: "Moments missed that could have happened" with the request it be written in present tense (to which I say 'ugh' =P). Details for the ficathon can be found on the **Quartie Forums**! Join the fray! PM me if you can't find it ;)_

_Takes place during: "Pilot"_

* * *

"_Hi Finn. Rupaul. What are you doing talking to her?"_

"_Science project, we're partners."_

Maneuvering his way down the student crammed hallway, Artie can't help, but arch an eyebrow at the distinct chastising sounds of head cheerleader, president of the celibacy club, most popular girl in school Quinn Fabray.

She wasn't always like this, mean and biting. He remembers her as the carefree wild child that always had a smile ready and waiting for any and everyone. He remembers her adorned in pastel colored spring dresses as her hair danced in the wind and as a soft melody carried her along with it. He remembers her _before _the uniform, before her world became engulfed in the flair that was red and white.

Distracted by once forgotten memories, Artie continues to propel himself down the hall, unaware that his path is on a direct collision course with the very cause of his distraction. Unaware, that is, until his face decides that it's a good idea to play speed bump for a weighty duffel bag.

_-SMACK- _

The startling sound of Quinn's duffel bag hitting him square in the face is nothing in comparison to the stinging sensation his cheek and nose is enduring. Never again will he make his way down a crowded hallway while lost in thought. Lesson definitely learned.

"Ugh!" Quinn scoffs as her bag pulls on her shoulder. "Get in the way, much?" With hands on her hips and a single brow raised, she stands in the manner one would expect the Queen Bee of a high school to stand - like she's better than everyone.

"S-sorry." Artie stammers as he adjusts his glasses. He doesn't know why he's apologizing exactly (_she_ hit _him_ after all), but he knows it's what she expects to hear so he willingly offers it to her.

Rolling her eyes, she breaths a disgruntle "Whatever."

Preparing to let their brief confrontation end there, Artie grips his wheels, but before he can give them a push, the memory of a girl humming sweetly to herself while believing no one is around to hear assaults his thoughts. Before his brain has the chance to hinder his voice, he calls out to her. "Hey Quinn?"

In a huff, she spins on heel. "Now what do you want?"

"I-I was wondering if you've made any arrangements to audition for Glee Club? You would be perfect for it." In a lopsided shrug, he tries to smile, but falters and settles for adjusting his glasses again. He figures she thinks he's insane. Honestly, he probably is. Whether he _wants _to believe it or not, Quinn obviously isn't the same girl he remembers.

Expelling a rush of air in a scoff-like laugh, Quinn exchanges a series of _"He can't be serious"_ looks with her friend Santana (a girl who possesses more attitude than the rest of the Cheerios combined). "What makes you think I would ever join that _loser _club?" She smirks in that demeaning fashion she has come accustomed to sporting.

Artie gulps in response. "I thought you might want to because…" Diverting his gaze, he scrunches his lips to the side as he mulls over what to say. He can't possibly admit that it's because he knows full well that she has the talent and a hidden passion for singing; she would outright deny it. Spotting Finn down the hall, Artie decides that it would be best to go with the prominent reasoning standing before him. "…well, because Finn-"

"Finn?" Her brows pull together as she blatantly cuts him off. "What about Finn?"

"God, you two are so boring!" Santana grumbles as she tightly shakes her head in disgust. "Stay with this loser if you want, I'm out." With a flip of her ponytail, she stalks off.

Squaring her shoulders, Quinn straightens her posture and resorts back to her well worn snob of a tone. "Forget it. I don't even know why I'm talking to you." She rolls her eyes again and turns to leave.

"You know, you weren't always like this." Artie mutters under his breath, causing Quinn to stall her exit. "You changed."

With hands remaining on her hips, she refuses to face him. Turning her head slightly, Quinn takes a deep disconcerted breath and speaks over her shoulder, her eyes never meeting his. "People change, Artie." Her expression tenses as his name escapes her lips. "Everyone does. It's something we all have to do."

"That's not true." The corners of his mouth twitch slightly. "You didn't have to, Quinn, you chose to." Lowering his head, Artie takes to staring at his twisting hands as he waits for the soft squeak-like sounds of her walking away.

"_Wheels! Just the cripple I was looking for. Hold up."_

Keeping his head down, Artie cringes at the words. He doesn't need to look to know it's that Mohawk football guy coming to inflict his daily dose of unnecessary torment. Why the jerks of McKinley High insisted on torturing him? He'll never understand.

When he risks a glance, he's surprised to see Quinn standing there, blocking the guy's way with her hand on his chest. "What are you doing?" She questions in an indignant tone.

"Having some fun. What's it to ya?"

"Puck…" Her jaw clenches and her gaze narrows. "Don't."

Artie can barely believe what he's witnessing: Quinn Fabray, Queen Bee Quinn Fabray, telling someone to leave him, not even a worker bee Artie Abrams, alone? That's it. Hell must have frozen over.

Grinning, Puck simply shrugs.

"I mean it, Puckerman." She jabs him in the chest with a stiff finger as she hisses through grit teeth. "Don't do whatever idiotic thing that pea brain of yours has cooked up. Got it?" Crossing her arms, she shifts her weight and pops her hip.

It isn't long before Puck crumbles and flails his arms in the air like a petulant child. "Fine! Gees, that time of the month, huh?"

Glaring, Quinn shakes her head and leaves without saying another word.

Ignoring everything that had just occurred between him and Quinn, Puck saunters his way over to Artie and takes a hold of his handlebars. "What she doesn't know can't hurt me, right?" Puck snorts. "But if she asks, some other dude shoved you in the porta potty, alright?"

"You're going to shove me in a porta potty…again?" Grimacing, Artie slouches in his chair. "I-isn't there a more…_sanitary _form of torture you could induce? Flush my glasses down the toilet, perhaps? That's always fun…" He chuckles uncomfortably.

As they turn a corner, Artie catches a glimpse of Quinn as she disappears among the sea of students and smiles. Somewhere buried beneath the glory of a perfect reputation and the glow of immense popularity is the glimmer of that pastel colored dress wearing girl he once knew. Perhaps there was a chance that Quinn hadn't changed completely after all.

_

* * *

A/N2: Thanks for reading! I'm going to try and stick to the SLs and character development points from the show (even though they get a bit wonky later down the line) as much as possible, but since I'm a Quartie shipper there will be a ton of friendship/romantic undertones laced throughout...hence Artie and Quinn having some friendly history._

_Suggestions for future chapters are always welcomed!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: A hearty THANK YOU to all of you who have read, reviewed, favored, and/or alerted! You guys are seriously all kinds of awesome!  
_

_Takes place during: "Showmance"_

* * *

With arms crossed, Quinn taps an agitated foot as her entire body tenses in outrage. Her boyfriend, her perfect popular boyfriend, was ruining everything. And on top of that, _it_ had its disgusting hands running all over him. Angels probably died in horror.

As soon as Finn exits the gym, Quinn grabs a fist full of shirt and drags him to the side. "Really, Finn? Push-it?" She berates as he stands there confused with that innocent dumb puppy dog look that he wears so well. "Do you have any idea what this little stunt of yours will cost me? What were you thinking?"

"I-" He starts to say, but Quinn has no intentions of letting him finish.

"That's right, you weren't thinking! You never think." For emphasis, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Before that Glee club ever came into the picture, they were well on their way of securing the positions of most popular girl and boy (homecoming king and queen shoe-ins) for the rest of their high school careers. However, Finn's 'need to express himself' and lack of forethought was seriously putting a damper on things.

"Rachel thought-"

"_Don't _say that _thing's _name." Seething, her entire expression constricts in detestation. "People think you're some big dancing Frankenfreak now, Finn. Is that what you want?" Her hands slice through the air, vehemently accentuating every word.

Avoiding her highly effective death glares, Finn buries his hands in his pockets and shifts around awkwardly. "Everyone seemed really into it."

"What they were _into_ was that amateur porno you and that _thing _was putting on." Quinn scowls as the image of Finn and that _thing _practically grinding on one another flashes in her mind. The thought alone makes her want to heave.

"Wha-?" Finn shivers slightly as his expression widens.

"Why don't you just quit?" Her intense anger seems to float away as she smiles sweetly and runs a flirtatiously finger up and down the length of his chest. "Then we can put this whole ugly mess behind us and pretend _none _of it ever happened." Hoping to sway his judgment in her favor, Quinn slips into a suggestive tone as she continues. "You remember my offer from earlier, don't you? The one about, well, you know." Biting her lip, she lowers her gaze teasingly before coyly glancing back up at him through long seductive lashes. "Our _compromise_."

Finn pauses and thinks for a second before hesitantly shaking his head. "Um, the thing is..." He mumbles uneasily as he takes a hold of her hand, stopping it in its course. "I…I kinda don't wanna quit. You heard me out there, I'm actually pretty good." Smiling crookedly, he shrugs. "I don't know, I really like it and…and I kinda wish you'd support me." Releasing her hand, Finn pulls his shoulders together and stumbles away, leaving with nothing more than a casual "I'll see you later."

_Support? _Quinn rolls her eyes at the thought. She would readily support him, that is, if he was doing something cool like finally getting his license and not something totally lame like hanging around Rachel what's her face and that ridiculous club. Altogether annoyed with everything that transpired, Quinn balls her hands into fists and retreats angrily to the only sanctuary a girl has in high school: the bathroom.

Fuming with irritation, Quinn heads straight to the sinks (not bothering to check if she's alone) and wraps her fingers around the edges, her knuckles whitening in effort. Staring intently at her reflection, thoughts of Finn, that loser club, her reputation, _Man hands_ swarm her mind. In a fit of frustration, she shrieks and slams her hand flat against the mirror.

She startles as she takes notice of a reflection that doesn't belong. "What the hell?" She snaps as she turns to face her intruder.

"Um..." Accompanied by lifted brows and an uncomfortable wave, Artie sits aghast at the entrance of the bathroom. Clearing his throat, he forces at least a corner of his mouth to pull upwards. "...hi?"

"Get out you perv!" Barking, she glowers aggressively and brings her hands assertively to her waist. When he doesn't move, she yells with greater intensity, her voice straining in the process. "Now!"

"R-r-right." He stammers, fumbling over his twisting tongue. Swiftly, he spins his chair around and lifts a hand to pull on the door handle. He wavers for less than a breath before turning back and facing Quinn once more.

"What is your problem?" She growls through clenched teeth. "Are you trying to be Creeper McSleazebag or something?"

"No..." He drawls, hastily shaking his head. "I can't say that I am." Furrowing his features, Artie quickly scans their surroundings before intoning, "You do realize that this is...the boy's restroom, don't you?"

"Don't be ri-" Her sneer falters as Artie nods towards the far wall. She gasps and flusters in embarrassment as she takes notice of the row of urinals. She had been so angry that she didn't take notice to which bathroom door she was storming into, but he didn't need to know that. Crossing her arms, she shifts her weight and extends her neck before declaring with feigned confidence, "I know."

Arching an eyebrow, Artie nods as he resists the urge to laugh at her expense. "Why are you in here anyways?"

Keeping her dauntless demeanor in tact, Quinn moves for the exit, brushing nonchalantly pass Artie. "That is none of your business." Before she can take her leave, the sounds of sex crazed students resonates through the door.

_"Ah, push it - push it good! Ah, push it- push it real good!"_

"Uh!" She scoffs, falling forehead first against the door. Once again her mind floods with images that make her want to vomit and she has had just about enough of it all. Bubbling with frustration, Quinn releases a sharp breath and unwittingly unloads on the poor boy who had no clue what he was rolling into to. "You...you saw it didn't you?" She vents, her body tensing more so than before. "That drag queen had its hands all over _my _boyfriend. There's something going on. I know it. If there was just some way I-" Her mouth hangs open, stopping in mid rant. Tilting her head slightly to the left, she bites down on her lower lip and oddly, she meets Artie's eyes with her own. "You're part of that singing club thing, right?"

Scrunching his mouth to the side, he glances down at his still costumed form and answers with a suspicious "Yahuh..."

"Good." She grins, lifting an eyebrow in a conspiratorial manner. "You're going to be my eyes and ears. I need you to keep an eye on that..._thing. _Make sure _it _keeps its filthy man hands off of Finn." She says it as more of an order than a request.

"Why don't you simply join Glee Club yourself?" Artie responds, knowing that it's the most logical solution. "That way you can keep an eye on Rachel and if anything, it'll be your hands all over Finn instead of hers. And..." He pauses briefly before continuing. "...it's not like you don't have the talent."

Quinn opens her mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. As the brilliance of Artie's suggestion (not compliment) slowly sinks in, she begins to nod. Her gaze narrows as she aimlessly taps a finger against her elbow. It _would _make a lot of things easier. Rachel would be kept at bay, Finn would assume Quinn was supporting him, and Quinn could work on getting her boyfriend (the perfect version of him) back. "You...might actually be on to something."

"Mmhmm." Artie nods as he stares at the bathroom stalls. Releasing a deep breath, he fidgets a little in his chair before saying "Not to be presumptuous, but woman, I'm going to have to kick you out. I need to..." He waves his hand in a circular motion towards the stalls. "...utilize the facilities."

She makes a face as though she's about to say 'gross,' but refrains and instead she breaths a barely audible "Thank you" before taking her leave. Once she has herself collected and her plan sorted out, Quinn heads to find Brittany and Santana. She's decided. They are infiltrating the Glee Club and there was nothing that _thing _could do about it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Takes place during: "Acafellas"_

* * *

"You need to go after these glee clubbers one by one. I want my full budget restored. I need a fog machine." Sue relaxes into her chair, lifting her feet and sprawling her legs across her desk. "Now, go. The Mexican gardener who shapes my toe nails will be here any minute and I can't have you ladies offending him with your non-professionally kept disasters."

With a crinkle in their brows and a slight tilt in their heads, Quinn and Santana exit Sue's office, the squeak of overused hand grips bidding them farewell as they leave.

"I vote we screw with the dwarf again." Examining her nails, Santana grunts as a callous smirk creeps into form. "Someone _needs _to smack that oompa-loompa." Rolling her eyes, she releases a jolt of air in a scoff-like exhale.

Quinn shakes her head. "That pygmy loser will be easy. She'll do the work for us." Her own smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "No, if we start at the bottom, the entire pyramid comes tumbling down. There..." Noticing Artie and Tina parting ways down the hall, Quinn motions towards the two and dips into an insidious tone. "We'll split up for now. I'll handle Art-" Stopping abruptly, she tenses at Santana's pointed look. It's an unspoken rule among the Cheerios to never let a loser's name grace their lips. She didn't mean to say it. It sort of just...slipped out. Biting her lower lip, Quinn swallows back the rest of Artie's name before continuing. "I mean that kid in the wheelchair. Take care of stutters." Quinn flicks her wrist in the general direction Tina was heading. "You know what to do."

"Oh, I got this." Raising a thin manicured eyebrow, Santana clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Wearing a pair of devilish grins, the two cheerleaders saunter their way down the hall towards their unsuspecting victims. Their hands are at their hips, their elbows wide, and the attitude that causes the rest of the student body to part way as they pass radiates with each step.

"Remember" Quinn whispers as they reach the end of the hall, leaning into Santana as she speaks. "They're weak. Exploit that."

Santana snorts within an intrepid sigh. "Please." She rolls her eyes. "I've been playing this game a lot longer than you." With arms crossed and predatory-like sights trained on the loser goth, Santana turns on a heel and leaves, her pony tail swaying back and forth in its signature way as she does.

Rolling her own eyes, Quinn mutters a breathy "Whatever" and tightly shakes her head.

Santana may be her best friend, but that isn't by choice. It's more of a...social rank decision. Quinn knows that popularity isn't just about who you are or what you do. It's about whom you associate with and Santana is one of those girls that is necessary to have on her side...even if the girl makes Quinn want to _cat scratch_ her from time to time.

Having her own mission in queue (the mission known as Artie Abrams), Quinn turns to the library doors. As Quinn raises a hand to push on the doors, she takes one last look over her shoulder where she expects to see Santana cornering Tina at the girl's locker. She heaves a disappointed, yet unsurprised, sigh as she sees Santana pressed up against a wall by none other than Noah Puckerman. For a brief moment as Santana smiles and as Puck trails kisses along the girl's neckline, Quinn's devious expression falls and the corners of her lips pull downwards. Her breath staggers as well kept secrets flash behind her eyes. Pursing her lips, Quinn squeezes her eyes closed and blindly enters the library, leaving the thoughts that gave her pause behind.

* * *

Tapping a pen aimlessly against his history text book, Artie stares past the words on the page and smiles. His heart is doing that thing again. That thing where it beats faster and louder than his thoughts. That thing it does after every encounter with the fascinating and impressive Tina Cohen-Chang.

Fascinating? Impressive? Artie laughs a little at himself. At least he didn't think of something overly cheesy like...incandescent. Not to say he doesn't think she is incandescent. Not to say he thinks of her like that in any way to begin with.

Groaning, Artie slumps in his chair, dropping his head forward. The more Artie tries to disregard his growing feelings and the more he tries to steer his heart down a less emotionally wrenching path, the more awkwardly foolish he becomes. Sighing, he closes his eyes and listens to the intense beating of his heedless heart.

"Something wrong?" A breathy voice says as its owner falls into the seat across from him. "Let me guess. Girl troubles?"

Unnerved by the sudden sound, Artie drops his mechanical pencil and lifts his head with a befuddled expression. "Wha-huh?" He manages to say when his brain catches up and realizes Quinn is sitting across from him. He doesn't quite know how to act as she remains sitting there as if it's no big deal or that it's completely normal for the most popular girl in school to approach someone as low as him. Artie opens his mouth to question her intentions, but the stirring confusion renders him incapable of forming words, let alone sounds. Instead, he furrows his brows more so, adjusts his glasses and waits for her to make the first move.

Quinn shrugs as she takes to running her fingertips along the chain of her golden necklace. "I'm sure whoever she is will come around." She breaths a disinterested sigh, but stays seated, seemingly with no intent on leaving.

"I-I'm sorry..." Artie drawls as his sight wanders around, falling on anything, but her. Leaning forward, he points at himself and speaks, keeping his voice just above a whisper. "I'm a bit confused. Do you _mean _to talk to me?"

Capturing his gaze with her own, Quinn smiles one of those sweet smiles that Artie knows she reserves only for teachers, her boyfriend, and those she's attempting to manipulate. In that moment, Artie recognizes that something fishy is going on and pulls back, raising his mental guard in the process.

"It's just..." Quinn releases a sharp exhale through thin lips. "Finn and that thing!" She slams her hand against the table causing those surrounding them to look their way.

"That again?" He arches a brow as he tries desperately to ignore the prying eyes. Awkwardly, he begins to thumb the edges of his text book. "Rachel's still not backing off, huh?"

Her jaw visibly constricts as her fingers take to tugging on her necklace instead of simply running along the chain. "It's not just that." Relaxing her posture, she stares directly into his eyes, hazel-green ones connecting with addled blue ones. "Don't you...don't you feel like you're just there to be in the background? Like there's no real point in trying?" Her smile fades and her features soften.

Artie eyes his surroundings again, this time with more suspicion lingering in the back of his mind. Is that really how she feels? Like she was just background material? Artie mentally shakes his head. He doesn't know whether he believes her or not, her eyes didn't flutter and her voice didn't strain, but Artie decides to just go with it. There's a chance she's letting him see her vulnerable side and he wants to make sure he is there for her if that is the case. "C'mon Quinn, you know it's not like that. We're a team. Just because they get a lot of the solos doesn't mean we're just background. We'll get our chance."

She laughs softly and shifts more comfortably in her seat. "I guess. I just don't understand why they get all the solos." She moves again, resting her elbow on the table and placing her chin in her hand. "Don't tell Finn, but...I totally think you should get one. You sing just as well, if not better, as Finn. You deserve one."

His expression widens as he sits silently, unable to think of anything to say in return. Receiving compliments, in any form, from a girl like Quinn Fabray is nowhere near being a common occurrence for him. He's stunned, to say the least.

"I bet if we say something, the others will speak up as well and Finn and that thing will just have to deal with being pushed to the back like the rest of us for once." The edges of her mouth twitch with a contained smirk that Artie can tell wants to come out.

Scrunching his lips to the side, he internally sighs. Now he knows he shouldn't believe her. She most likely just wants to tear down Finn's confidence to give the jock a reason to quit and is trying to use him to do it. A feeling of disappointment sinks in his chest as he begins to wonder where that glimmer of the Quinn he once knew has gone. "A-as much as I would love a solo, I think that maybe it would be best if-"

"Don't you _believe _in yourself enough to know that you deserve more?" She cuts him off, something she has come prone to doing. "Don't you _believe _you're more than just a background singer? You need to say something, Artie. Wouldn't you like to see Finn and...It...knocked off their high horses just once? I know I do."

Artie smiles as he returns his attention back to his text book. "If you really believe in yourself, you don't have to bring other people down. I'm not going to resort to going behind their backs just because I want something." He glances back up at her and instantly knows that his words have hit her. Her mouth is hanging open and her sight is shifting rapidly back and forth in thought. Looking past her, Artie spots Santana at the entrance to the library, waving her hands in an effort to capture Quinn's attention. "Uh, I think you're being summoned."

"Huh?" She says within a forced swallow.

Artie nods towards the other cheerleader before refocusing on his studies. As Quinn turns to look over her shoulder, he doesn't offer her another word or another glance. Shakily, she gets up and leaves and for some reason he can't quite distinguish, Artie continues to smile.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading...and possibly reviewing!_

_In case it isn't clear, this takes place during the Kurt/Mercedes "Have you ever kissed someone?" scene and ends just before Santana and Quinn hook their arms with Mercedes'. Also, yes...the line Artie uses on Quinn is a direct quote of what Quinn says to Sue at the end of the episode. I liked the idea that she got it from him. Lemme know if it worked well for you. =)_

_Oh, I also realize that I always end with Quinn leaving...I hope to break that pattern soon. =P  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Takes place during: Preggers_

* * *

Sunday, midday afternoon.

* * *

Biting her lower lip at a near blood inducing level, the color in her cheeks disappear as she waits. And waits. And waits.

With each second that ticks by, each second that brings her closer and closer to what she already knows is true, she can feel her future, her brightly shining already planned out future, slipping away. Her fingers curl staunchly around the tiny golden cross that hangs from her neck in a futile attempt to hold on as her world slowly crumbles at her feet. She imagines pieces of her life drowning among the vile pools of sink water (or what she hopes is sink water) that litter the restroom's tiled flooring.

In another futile attempt, this time to feign countenance, she scoffs, shaking her head at her own drama. It's beyond ridiculous that she's frantically pacing back and forth waiting for some asinine plastic stick to tell her whether or not Mother Nature had screwed her over.

At least that's what she wants to believe. In the back of her mind, Quinn realizes that that in itself is beyond ridiculous. Abruptly, she stalls her feet, slouching forwards in mid pace and buries her face in her hands. As the first tear falls from her eye, Quinn chokes on a strangled sob and for a brief moment, she teeters on the edge of hysterically breaking down.

_-knock-knock-knock-_

Quinn flinches at the sound, a sharp gasp escaping her lips, but chooses to ignore whoever it is that is most likely doing the "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now" dance.

_-knock-knock-knock-_

"Someone's in here!" She shrieks, her voice and annoyance piercing through the thin piece of wood that the store deemed worthy enough to play the part of a door.

As the sounds of shuffling feet and low grumblings depart, Quinn finds herself emotionally and mentally back at square one. The frantic pacing resumes and her hand whitens as she clutches at that golden cross of hers once again.

_"Please. Please God, I can't be. Please." _She mouths quietly in hopes that her begging will be enough as she silently prays, making any and every deal she can come up with in exchange for all of it to simply go away.

Trembling, she brings her eyes to that asinine piece of plastic and continues to wait. And wait. And wait.

Another minute passes and Quinn's stagger of a breath sends the surrounding air scattering away...carrying her dream of getting out of Lima along with it. It's there, staring back at her, a little pink plus sign. She's pregnant. She pregnant and for the lack of a better term...she's screwed.

Her entire body convulses, hands releasing its grasp on plastic and gold as she stumbles backwards in shock until she falls against the suddenly icy wall.

She wants to laugh, wants to dive head first into the comedy of delirium and say things like _'homeslice' _or fetch her hamburger phone and call her BFF.

She wants to yell, wants to stomp her foot and scream up at the ceiling _'Are you there, God? It's me, Quinn. Quinn Fabray? What the hell...?'_

She wants to ignore everything. Wants to pretend consequences don't exist. That that day never happened.

Instead...she panics. She panics...and she runs.

* * *

"You have the list, Goose?"

"Yes, Mom." Artie groans as his eyes involuntarily roll in repressed exasperation. "Just as I have the last twenty times you asked me."

His mom snaps a look at him, a look that is trying to be stern, but comes off more 'friendly mother' than anything. "Don't mock your mother."

Artie can't help, but chuckle. "Sorry, Mom."

"You better be." Taking the list from him, Mrs. Abrams reviews the piece of paper. "We'll pick up the small stuff now. Your father can come back with the van later."

It's been years since the accident, almost a decade, but still, even with all the time that has passed, Artie's mother continues to refuse to drive with him. He knows this and he knows no matter how many times he puts on a smile for her and tells her it's okay, it'll never be.

He's confined to a wheelchair.

It's her fault.

At least that's how she sees it, so, Artie simply nods. There's no use in having that argument again. One day, maybe, they'll be able to talk about it, but not today.

Just as they are about to enter the store, a familiar figure tears out of the doors. "Quinn?" Blonde hair? Check. Red and white uniform? Check. Running straight for a red car? Yep, it was Quinn, but something was...off. She had a hand covering the bottom half of her face, her eyes were like glass, and not that he had much experience, but Artie's rather certain people didn't steer with their foreheads. At least not usually.

"Mom...I'll be right back." Without waiting to hear the expected 'Don't be too long, we're in a hurry' response, Artie wheels himself to the driver's side door. Silently, he sits there. What is supposed to do? Cough? Knock? What was the protocol? Should he have just ignored what he saw? Awkwardly he sits for what feels like forever before finally letting a soft "Quinn...?" slip out.

"Go away!" She screeches without lifting her head from the steering wheel.

He can't tell if she's crying or...he doesn't even know. "Quinn?"

"God! Yes! That's my name!" Now she snaps her sight to him, a sight that looks as though she's about to rip his head off. "What do you want?" Once again, she returns to her initial position with her eyes closed and forehead pressed against the steering wheel. "Just go away..." It comes out desperate and quiet, almost a beg.

"I-I..." Confused, he grabs a hold of his wheels again and turns around. "I'm sorry...I...I'll just..."

She takes a calming, staggering, protracted breath. After some time, she collects herself enough to say "No, I'm...I don't know what to do." She's near tears, her voice straining and lined with panic. "I can't do this. I can't...I can't...I'm..." She raises her head to look at him, but...he isn't there. He doesn't hear her. He left...

"...pregnant."

* * *

A/N: Hi, over a year later, I present you with stupid sadness! :|


End file.
